Emma
I finger the severed ends of my hair. I know I shouldn’t care. It’s only hair.
But when Haley said they needed a sacrifice from me, I didn’t think the sacrifice would be my hair.
“Don’t worry.” Haley sits down beside me on the rough log and hands me a tin cup full of soup. “It will grow back.”
“I know.”
I don’t want Haley to think I’m vain—although I am, a bit. I’ve been trying so hard to grow out my hair since that disastrous
pixie cut Mom made me get in eighth grade, and it was finally exactly the right length. I always used salon-quality shampoo
and styling products, despite Dad groaning over the cost, because I wanted to maintain its silky sheen. I’m a little ashamed
now about how I used to insist on such high-cost products, but . . . my hair really did look gorgeous.
Until now.
“I’m just being silly,” I tell Haley, and am relieved when she replies, “There’s nothing silly about it. You have beautiful hair. Or had, I should say.”
Haley laughs, showing her dimples, and I’m suddenly reminded of what it was that drew me to her in the first place: her snark.
The videos she used to post about the Craft were always informative, but also . . . fun.
There hasn’t been anything fun about Haley in a long time.
“But it still looks good,” she’s assuring me. “Sort of. We can have Trina style it, if you want. Her sister works in a hair
salon.”
I smile, but only to be polite. Having a sister who works in a hair salon does not automatically make you qualified to cut
hair. Meg made the mistake of letting Trina trim her bangs, and now Meg looks like someone stuck a bowl on her head and cut
around it—which makes sense because this is actually what Trina did.
I look around for Meg since I know she’d back me up on the Trina thing, but I don’t see her anywhere. I realize I haven’t
seen her in a while—not since Haley sent her and some of the other girls to dig some more, this time in a new spot. We’re going to find it, Haley told us last night. And then we’ll be unstoppable.
“It’s okay,” I say to her now and eat a little soup. It’s good, especially since it’s store-bought. For once Haley isn’t making
us forage in the woods for our supper. I know that, as a green witch, I should be more committed to living off the bounty
of the earth.
But I’m so sick of garlic mustard and stinging nettles. Meg is, too. Maybe that’s where she went—to find a cheeseburger. Although
none of us has any money since we’ve given it all to Haley. And we’re not allowed to use the boat, so we’re stuck here.
“If it’s for a good cause, I guess it doesn’t matter,” I lie. Because it does matter. I hate my new bob.
But I know I’d hate Haley’s disapproval more.
“It is for a good cause,” Haley says.
I lift the spoon to my mouth. Chicken noodle never tasted so good. “The defeat of Gaia?”
“Yes,” Haley replies, simply. “That witch has sent someone to look for us. And your sacrifice is going to ensure that he never
finds us.”